


Unfinished Business

by bees_stories



Series: The New Team Torchwood Adventures [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, Aliens, Case File, Post-Series 2, Second Chances, Time Travel, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In January of 1941, Captain Jack Harkness was presumed killed in action. It turned out, his adventures were just beginning. For Ianto Jones, old wounds are torn open as two men sharing the same name are reunited and the past and the present collide.  </p>
<p>Beta by nancybrown. Many thanks!</p>
<p>A/N: Contains references to the Series 1 episodes <em>Out of Time</em> and <em>Captain Jack Harkness</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

***

"Keep cool, boys." Captain Jack Harkness felt his heart thumping in his chest but forced calm into his voice. The sortie was supposed to be a milk run, one last training exercise before they were sent down south into the hot zone. But the hot zone had come to them. Messerschmitts swarmed out of the channel cloud cover like angry hornets. His boys were about to get a trial by fire.

He ducked and rolled, avoiding bursts of machine gunfire, and came up behind the plane chasing him. He thumbed the triggers of the nose-gun and a satisfying blossom of flame erupted from the 109. There was no time to savour the victory, another plane was on his tail, and George was in trouble.

Planes swooped and rolled around him. He put his Spitfire between Tim and the German hunting him, giving the younger pilot time and space to break away and regroup. He pulled up and away just in time as machine guns spit death and a Messerschmitt's pilot hit the silk.

They were winning. All the hard work in the classroom was paying off. He was so proud of the young men under his command. He rolled the Spitfire, enjoying the thrill of the hunt, and sighted down on another German plane. 

There was shouting over the radio. Roars of excitement as one by one his boys scored kills. He fired salvo after salvo, and with a feral grin watched as another plane went down. 

The Germans were getting discouraged. There weren't many left. His squadron was intact and they were nearly home free. He did a barrel roll to avoid a barrage of gunfire and then a reverse, determined to chase the enemy back across the Channel.

He was almost in range, bearing down on his target. He was aware of motion alongside and dropping behind. He fired and the plane in front of him burst into flames. He whooped with excitement. One more plane to go and they would all be headed for the barn. 

He rolled and climbed. The German was a persistent bastard. He ducked and dodged. Jack's engine sputtered and then cut out completely. The cockpit was buffeted by turbulence and he was forced against the restraints. She had given him a good ride, but the Spitfire was done for. 

Captain Jack Harkness slammed his fist against the canopy release. Nothing happened. He smacked the mechanism again and felt the first nauseating twinge of fear twist his guts when the latch still refused to open. 

For no good reason at all, he thought of Captain James Harper, and the strange, nearly desperate way he had tried to encourage him to squeeze every last bit of pleasure out of his evening at the Ritz. 

Smoke began to fill the cockpit. Jack thought of their dance. He had felt incredibly brave then, walking through that room packed with airmen and their women, to offer his hand to another man. He coughed, choking on the acrid smoke. He remembered their kiss. Of the feel of James' lips against his, and wished desperately he had taken the other man up on his offer to continue their discussion elsewhere. 

The cold, dark waters of the Channel loomed closer. Even if he could get the canopy open, there was precious little time for his parachute to deploy. He thought of the screams of pilots he'd known. Good men who'd roasted alive as their planes burned. He didn't want to die that way. He didn't want to die at all. 

With his last remaining strength, Captain Jack Harkness hammered at the release mechanism. Incredibly, the canopy opened. The plane burst into flames and Jack felt nothing but an intense sensation of cold before he blacked out.

***

Jack Harkness glanced at his watch. They'd been at sea for two hours. It was a nice night, crisp, but not too cold, and he was glad of the opportunity to get a little training in with his team. But the experiment, as far as he could tell, was a bust.

He glanced over at Mark Landers, his new science specialist, and decided to give him another half hour to prove his theory. In the meantime, Ianto was up in the pilot's cabin, and Jack always enjoyed the opportunity to trade a bit of nautical innuendo when the occasion arose. 

"Boss! I think we've got something!" Andy unlooped the binocular strap from his neck and held them out to Jack. "Just there, about ten o'clock."

Jack brought the binoculars into focus as he followed Andy's line of sight. There was something. A man falling from the sky, his parachute only partially deployed. "You're right. Hit the lights! Ianto! Man ahoy! Doc! Get ready, it looks like you're going to have a customer." 

The crew sprang into action. It was chaos, but the orderly sort, as _The Sea Queen_ moved cautiously closer. They broke out a small inflatable boat and deployed it over the side. Jack and Andy followed, pushing through the cold water towards the canopy of silk that spread out over the sea. "Get your knife ready," Jack said tensely as he manoeuvred as close as he dared. "We're gonna have to cut his harness."

As they neared, Jack felt his heart constrict. The parachute and the flight suit of the unconscious man were of a style he hadn't seen for decades. "Hurry up, Andy, we need to get him on board." 

From behind him, Jack heard the sound of _The Sea Queen's_ engines idling. A powerful spotlight illuminated the recovery scene as Andy used an oar to pull the pilot closer. He'd had a rough time of it. His hands and face were black with soot, and even over the briny aroma of the sea there was the scent of scorched leather. There was something familiar about the shape of his face, but Jack didn't have time to dwell as a stretcher was lowered down to him, and he and Andy got the latest casualty of the Rift ready for transport. 

"Heave away!" Ianto called. 

The stretcher ascended and disappeared out of view. A moment later it was replaced by a ladder, and Jack made the slow and cautious climb back onto _The Sea Queen_.

Felicity was already at work assessing injuries by the time Jack cleared the side. He told Mark to give Andy a hand with the inflatable, and then went to observe. 

The airman had gained consciousness. Jack had another overwhelming wave of deja vu strike as he got a better look at the man struggling under Felicity's hands, clearly in pain. Jack leaned forward, bringing his face close, and spoke to him gently. "Hey, you're okay. Just relax, we've got you." 

The man blinked, trying to clear salt water from his eyes. "James? James Harper? Is that you?" He peered intently, his gaze searching Jack's face for confirmation, and then he fainted. 

"I'll lay in a course for Flat Holm." Ianto started to move away.

Jack grabbed onto the sound of Ianto's voice and used it like a lifeline to ground himself. His world felt like it had tilted 90°. He took a deep breath and came to a snap decision.

"No." It was difficult, Jack didn't want to do anything in that moment but stay at the side of the man they'd just fished from the water, but he forced himself to get out of Felicity's way. "Make for home." 

"Protocol in these cases — " 

Jack knew exactly what the protocol in these cases was. He was the one who had developed it. He cut Ianto off. "Who's in charge here?"

He regretted the snappish tone. But there were times when he didn't need a fight, and this was shaping up to be one of them. He met Ianto's eyes, trying to soften the harshness of his retort. Begging understanding. Ianto's lips flattened in displeasure. Jack knew they would have words later.

"Sir," Ianto said crisply before he moved swiftly for the pilot's cabin. "Raise anchor," he ordered Mark as he pushed by.

Jack stared out to sea as his people worked around him. 

"Anchor away!" their new technical specialist called before returning to his duty station. He had jerry-rigged together a raft of sensors and other monitoring equipment, the better to collect data about the Rift activity. 

The engines kicked over a moment later. Jack grabbed the rail as the deck shifted beneath his feet, and a spume of salt water trailed in their wake. He told himself to get a grip, and went to look over Mark's shoulder. 

"Good result." It was faint praise for such a significant breakthrough. Jack knew he could do better, but he wasn't really thinking straight. He was vamping, feigning normality until he could pull himself together.

Mark Landers was everything Toshiko had said he was, and then some. He was bright. Insightful, even. And most important, he was willing to accept that the Universe was a more complicated place then his theories had led him to believe.

He had spent the first three days after he had been cut loose from orientation studying the Rift prediction algorithms, and then asked Jack if it was okay if he tinkered a bit with a location protocol. Jack had shrugged. Pinpointing where the Rift might open, as well as when, had been one of Toshiko's pet projects, and Jack saw no harm in continuing her research.

A week later, Mark said he had made a breakthrough. Yesterday, he said he was ready for implementation. Tonight, he had just possibly saved the life of Captain Jack Harkness, who was thought killed in action when his plane went down in 1941. 

Mark was visibly chuffed. He could barely contain the small smile that kept pulling at his lips and turning his face even merrier than usual. "Thank you, sir. We matched the model almost perfectly. A fantastic test." 

"I'm sure the man we pulled from the water would agree," Jack said. He clapped Mark's shoulder and let his hand remain just long enough to convey his gratitude before going down below to check in with Felicity.

***

Andy knew he had just witnessed something extraordinary. But as usual with Torchwood, it wasn't enough that they were Johnny on the Spot when a portal in time opened. It seemed the man they had just rescued from the sea, a bloke dressed in the gear of a WWII airman, was a personal acquaintance of the boss. That was strange, and it bore checking out.

Gwen was back at the shop keeping an eye on things, so he couldn’t get her take. That left Ianto as the only other person on board likely to have the inside story. There really only seemed one course of action. He made a beeline for the galley and put on the kettle. 

Andy didn't really mind making the tea. As a copper he learned people talked more readily when they had a cuppa in hand. It was cold enough on the open water, even with a heavy anorak, to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. He had no doubt his bribe would help thaw, as it were, any obstacles to conversation.

He poured a couple of mugs' worth, dumped sugar in one, and left the other plain for Ianto. The rest of the tea he put into a flask. No doubt someone would come looking in due course.

***

"How's he doing?" Jack asked crisply as he entered the main cabin. It had been converted for use as a sick bay, and the man who shivered in the bunk was surrounded by blinking lights and beeping monitors.

"He's extremely lucky considering the situation." Felicity adjusted an I.V. feed and pulled a second Mylar emergency blanket up over her patient's chest. "He has burns. Smoke inhalation. I'll need to do a scan when we're back on land to see the extent of the damage to his lungs. He's chilled to the bone, but we got him out of the water quick enough to keep him from a nasty case of hypothermia. Given the tools at my disposal, we should see him back on his feet in no time." 

"That's good." Jack looked down onto the face of a man he'd never expected to see again and wondered at the twist of fate.

***

"Here," Andy said as he entered the pilot's cabin. "You look like you could use this."

Ianto glanced over his shoulder and nodded before returning his attention to the black expanse of ocean in front of them. "Yeah, thanks." 

Andy handed the cup over and took a sip from his own. "You all right, mate? You seem a bit tense." 

Ianto shrugged, but said nothing. Andy drank some more tea and watched the lights of Cardiff grow a bit closer. It never paid to rush these things. "The funny thing is, that fellow, he got the name wrong, but he seemed to recognise the boss. And the boss, he seemed to know him." 

"So I noticed." 

Ianto, normally the coolest of cucumbers, seemed less than pleased. That, Andy thought, smacked of history. The plot thickened. Ianto was wearing a heavy wool topcoat over his jumper and jeans. The fabric of the coat rode over his shoulders as they tensed. 

"I was wondering," Andy said. "How that might be possible." 

"I'm sure you were," Ianto replied in the same aggrieved tone. He sighed and cut back on the throttle slightly as they approached a fishing trawler. The noise level dropped to a more comfortable conversational level. "But it's not really my story to tell. I'm sure Jack will fill everyone in when we get back to shore." He drained his mug and handed it back. "Thanks for the tea." 

He'd struck out. But Andy was philosophical about it. They were only an hour out of Cardiff. He'd find out what was going on soon enough.

***

"What's going on?" Gwen said to Jack as he entered the main body of the Hub. His face was closed and his eyes stormy, and that didn't bode well at all.

Gwen had spent the better part of her shift alternating between sweet-talking and bullying the painting crew that were putting the finishing touches on their newly renovated public face, and she was looking forward to calling it a night. But as Felicity manoeuvred a trolley bearing a blanketed figure into the infirmary, she was beginning to doubt her day was going to end any time soon.

"Ianto said you've recovered a casualty." 

"We have." Jack brushed by her and into his office. 

There was no sign of the lads, but they were probably busy putting _The Sea Queen_ to bed. Gwen sighed and decided she'd better order a round of pizzas and then call Rhys to let him know she'd be even later than she'd anticipated.

***

"That's fine, Captain." Felicity tucked her stethoscope back into her pocket and gave her latest patient a reassuring smile. "I'm going to turn down the lights so you can get some rest. If you need anything, just press that button."

"Thank you, ma'am," he whispered before losing consciousness again.

Felicity rose from the bedside with a frown and left the newly renovated infirmary. She passed through the autopsy bay into the main body of the Hub and climbed the stairs to Jack's office. Through the glass, she could see him talking animatedly to Ianto. The pair had been tense ever since the captain had countermanded standard procedure and ordered _The Sea Queen_ back to Cardiff instead of to the care facility at Flat Holm. 

Felicity knocked anyway. Both men glowered at the interruption before hiding their irritation. Jack waved her in.

"You have a report for me?"

He was trying for professional detachment, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of eagerness. Under the circumstances, Felicity wasn't sure she'd react any differently. "Yes, sir. The patient is stable and resting comfortably. His principal injuries are burns on his face and hands, and a minor concussion. I asked him a standard series of questions to determine his mental state. I found his answers... curious." 

"I thought you might." A weary expression crept over Jack's face. "Ianto, get everyone together for a briefing. We might as well get this out in the open."

***

Jack watched Dev and Andy handed out coffees and teas. He noticed Ianto was no longer stage-directing their serving, though whether it was because he was finally satisfied with their performance, or because he was too wound up over the current situation, it was hard to say. He smiled at Dev as she served him, took a sip from the cup to show he, at least, was satisfied, then put the coffee aside.

Every eye in the room was on him. Jack wasn't the least bit surprised. Gossip travelled fast, especially in small circles. Gwen kept shooting speculative looks in his direction. No doubt she had gotten all sorts of interesting tidbits out of the others during dinner. 

"One January night in 1941, a squadron of planes went out on a training sortie over the Channel. They were ambushed by the Germans. Due to the heroic sacrifice of their commanding officer, every other pilot made it home from that mission." Jack paused. He raked his gaze dramatically over the conference table. 

"Their CO was an American volunteer who saw the writing on the wall and signed up with the British forces months before his government joined the war effort. He was a hero who put his life before that of his men. His name was Captain Jack Harkness." 

"Jack!" Gwen exclaimed, overriding the general murmur of confusion.

"It was thought the captain died that night when his plane was shot down. We now know he escaped at the last moment and slipped through an opening in the Rift. We recovered him from the water, and he's resting comfortably in the infirmary." 

Jack studied his team, judging their reactions. He saw mostly curiosity. Andy and Felicity both looked expectant, knowing there was more to the story. But then they had witnessed his reunion with the man whose name he'd appropriated. 

"A couple of years ago, there was a weakening of the wall between times. Toshiko Sato and myself were briefly trapped in 1941, where we met Captain Harkness. To avoid complicating the situation further, I introduced myself as Captain James Harper, also of the American volunteers."

"What a mess!" exclaimed Dev. She ducked her head in embarrassment. "If you don't mind me say so, sir." 

Jack shook his head. Davina Agi was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed twenty-four, and the youngest of his new recruits. She hadn't outgrown the tendency to say exactly what was on her mind. The Heddlu brass seldom appreciated her frankness, but he did.

"I don't. It's a unique situation. It's not often you lift the identity of a dead man, and then find yourself buying him a drink."

"So what will you do?" Ianto's voice was quiet, but it cut straight to the heart of the matter. What _would_ he do? 

Jack met his gaze and knew the question was multi-layered. He felt a stab of old guilt. He'd never had the chance to explain to Ianto properly about what had happened that night. But Ianto was aware that something _had_ happened because Toshiko had told him. And Jack knew that whatever she'd said had hurt Ianto deeply. 

"First, we get him back on his feet. Then we'll take it slow. He's going to need time to adjust. He's a long way from home. And for Captain Jack Harkness, there's no going back." From the expression on Ianto's face he knew Jack wasn't just talking about the man whose name he'd stolen.

Jack sighed. He smiled at his team. "You did good work today. Now go home. If anything comes up, I'll text you." 

He was out of his chair and gone before anyone could call his name.

***

"I thought I'd imagined you."

Though he was swathed in bandages and dressings, Captain Jack Harkness — the _real_ Captain Jack Harkness — was looking up at him with an expression that was a mixture of wonder and incredulity. Jack understood his reaction and he shared it. The odds were infinitesimally small of such an event occurring, and yet, it had. Captain Harkness had slipped the surly bonds of earth, only to slide through the Rift and back into Jack's life. 

"What happened last night? One minute," his voice dropped to a bare whisper and Jack had to lean even further forward to hear, "we were dancing. In front of everyone. You kissed me. But no one seemed to have seen, thank God. And then you and Miss Sato, you just disappeared." 

The mention of the kiss triggered a sense memory. For a brief moment, Jack could feel warm lips, at first hesitant and then yielding, against his own. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to beat faster as he remembered the sheer _want_ that had engulfed him in that moment. 

Roughly, he cleared his throat and tried to push the memory away. "Yeah, about that." Jack really did owe the other man a decent explanation, especially given the dramatic way he'd walked out of his life. 

"Time ... is a lot less linear than we like to think." Jack had explained about the Rift to dozens of displaced people before, but he'd never felt so wrong-footed as he did in that moment. "The guy that said the past is a different country didn't really have it half wrong." 

The captain's expression became even more confused. Jack tried again. "When Toshiko and I left the dance hall, it was through a door in time."

"James, you're not talking sense." 

There was a hand on his shoulder. Jack looked up. Felicity was shaking her head minutely in warning. Jack gave her a silent apology, but he had to tell the other Jack something, if only to explain his mysterious departure. 

"When you took your men out on their training mission it was January of 1941. It's still January, but it hasn't been 1941 for a very long time. For me, that night in the dance hall was over two years ago." 

"Time travel." The incredulous expression was back. "You're a time traveller? I'm a time traveller. Like Buck Rogers?" 

"Who?" The name was vaguely familiar, but Jack couldn't place a face to go with it.

"You know, on the radio. Buck Rogers and the 25th Century!" The captain tried for a radio announcer's dramatic delivery and did surprisingly well considering the hoarseness of his smoke-damaged lungs.

Whatever worked, Jack thought. They could iron out the fine points later. "Yeah, that's the general idea." 

"Captain." Felicity's tone was quite stern. And it seemed obvious, even to Jack, that she wasn't going to allow him to tax her patient any further. 

"Yeah, I know, Doc. Don't tire him out." Jack gave the other man a smile as he caressed the small patch of undamaged skin over his brow tenderly. "I know it's a lot to take in. I'm sorry. We'll talk more about it later."

***

Gwen was at her computer. A cup of early morning takeaway coffee cooled on the desk amid her reports and papers. She'd spotted Felicity returning to the infirmary with a mug of her own, and a weary expression that suggested that she'd been up most of the night. So far there had been no sign of the others as Gwen retrieved the mission log concerning the Ritz Dance Hall.

She remembered the day Jack and Toshiko went missing at the Ritz, and how odd Jack had seemed afterwards. But there hadn't been much of a chance to learn more, and in the wake of Abaddon, it had scarcely mattered until now. 

Ianto, as usual, seemed to know more than he was letting on. But he wasn't talking. Once again, it was up to Gwen to figure out the story our for herself.

The mission log was frustratingly cryptic. Toshiko had composed the report, and for a moment, Gwen felt a wave of sadness ride over her heart as she recalled her colleague. She reached for her mug and made a conscious effort to push the feeling away. They weren't meant to dwell on their grief, only celebrate the memories. 

There was nothing useful. Tosh described the steps she had taken to leave clues for her contemporaries, but detailed little about the people she and Jack had met. Of Captain Jack Harkness, there was nothing. Gwen closed out the report and did a background search.

"Captain Jack Harkness. Born... blah blah blah. Educated.... the same. Volunteered his services..." Gwen read on. Jack was right, the man was a hero.

"He wasn't using his name, so I took it," said a voice over her shoulder.

Gwen jumped. She spun her chair around and tried to compose her breathing. "Jack! I... I was just doing a background search. Looking for family. He's going to want to know." 

"He hasn't got any," Jack replied. "The last of his line. Oh, there was a second cousin in Oklahoma, but she was a spinster librarian, and died in 1962. He's got no one."

"I see," Gwen said softly. "I'm sorry." 

Jack shrugged. "Actually, it will probably make things easier. There's no kids for him to have missed growing up. No grandchildren to wonder about."

Gwen knew Jack wasn't thinking just of Captain Harkness. His expression was edged with bitterness, and there was a harshness to his tone that smacked of failure. She remembered a man named John and his losses. She suddenly felt very sorry for Captain Jack Harkness, a relic of the past now stranded alone in the modern world.

To be continued ... 


	2. Chapter 2

***

"Let's have a look at those burns, shall we?" 

Captain Harkness looked at her doubtfully as Felicity wheeled a tray full of instruments up to his bedside, but nodded anyway. "Ma'am."

He gave her a shy smile as she spread a sterile plasticised drape on top of the blanket. It had taken him a bit to get used to the idea that she was his doctor and not his nurse. Under the circumstances, she supposed the confusion was understandable. Even though women had been practising medicine for as long as men, they were far fewer on the ground in the last century, and they would have been unheard of in a military environment. 

She picked up a pair of bandage scissors and extended her hand. He offered his right arm — not unexpected, he appeared to be right handed — for her inspection. 

During her initial triage, Felicity had assessed the majority of his burns as second degree with the potential, under normal circumstances, to evolve to third degree in time. But fortunately for Captain Harkness, he'd fallen into the care of Torchwood, and they had resources Felicity would have given _her_ right arm for during her days as a field medic. 

His progress was about as good as could be expected, given the traumatic nature of his injuries. With Dev's assistance, Felicity had cleaned and debrided the burns, removing patches of charred skin from Captain Harkness' forearms, hands, and face. The concussion seemed to be resolving nicely as well. There were no signs of permanent brain injury.

"Close your eyes, Captain." The last layer of bandages fell away. Felicity was long used to horrific insult to the human body, but she had no doubt that the man under her care might feel otherwise. The damage was as she anticipated. Under normal circumstances, they were looking at weeks of painful recovery time, though probably not a skin graft. Fortunately, it looked like she could shorten that considerably. 

She picked up a hand-held device from her tray of instruments. "You're going to feel a rather intense tingling sensation," Felicity explained as she activated the dermal regenerator. "If it gets to be too much, or you feel any type of pain, let me know at once." She held his gaze to make sure he understood. "Ready?"

It didn't seem right, Felicity thought as a beam of pale purple light illuminated Captain Harkness' skin. That one man could be healed so easily when soldiers in the field, or children in hospital, agonised as they awaited skin grafts, or lay tormented in their beds as their bodies repaired themselves the old-fashioned way.

It wasn't fair, and she knew it. But the device was alien, and unique, and there was no way to replicate it for mass production — at least not yet. Jack had explained, in time, and through the careful introduction of critical knowledge, that Earth would evolve the technology independently. But knowing didn't make the situation any less frustrating. 

Felicity glanced up at her patient. Despite her instruction to speak up, he was trying not to wince. She turned her face so he couldn't see, and flattened her lips as she contemplated the machismo of pilots. Every last one she'd ever run across insisted on toughing it out. She made a small adjustment to the pain medication feeding into his fluids before continuing the treatment.

***

"Ready room?" Ianto said. He spooned coffee into the espresso machine and set the controls to make Jack's favourite industrial-strength brew.

Jack took a small moment of pleasure watching the assured movements of Ianto's hands before replying. Felicity had said there was no real reason to keep the captain confined to the infirmary for the remainder of his convalescence. The only problem was, they were short on guest space. Their safe house had been destroyed in the bombing, and the idea of leaving the captain on his own in a B&B or guest house made Jack's stomach knot with anxiety.

"Too disruptive now that we've got a crew on overnight watch. I suppose I could give him my quarters." 

Ianto leaned a hip against the worktop and raised an eyebrow. "You'd make a man with recently burned hands climb a ladder? I don't think Dr Porter would approve." 

Jack pursed his lips. They needed someplace reasonably quiet and comfortable. He sighed. If they'd stuck to protocol like Ianto wanted and taken the captain straight to Flat Holm, they wouldn't be having this discussion. He was practically begging to have his face rubbed in it, but they were running out of options. "Would you mind giving up your office for a few days?" he asked hesitantly. 

Ianto flipped a switch. The coffee machine gurgled as water fed into the heating chamber. "Mark and I are going to spend the rest of the week playing builders getting the testing lab back online. I wouldn't suggest it." 

Jack sighed. Maybe he should re-think Flat Holm. 

"You could take him to mine." 

Jack searched Ianto's face for clues to his motivation. There was nothing there that suggested his offer was anything but sincerely given. "You'd do that?" 

Ianto shrugged, the movement of his shoulders elegant under the wool of his jacket. "It's the perfect solution. I'm on the overnight rota until the end of the week. It's monitored in case he gets into difficulty." He paused for a moment while he fitted Jack's mug under the dispenser nozzle.

Jack considered. The flat was comfortable and in a quiet neighbourhood. But the idea of leaving a Rift survivor alone for hours at a stretch didn't sit right. "He'd be on his own. Even with monitoring, I'm not sure that's a good idea." 

"There's nothing on your schedule for the next few days that can't keep."

Jack put his hand on Ianto's shoulder, it was tense under the wool of his jacket. "What are you suggesting?"

Ianto turned to face him and shrugged. "You need to be the one to take point on Captain Harkness' re-acclimation. He trusts you." 

Jack felt his mouth go dry as he absorbed the impact of Ianto's statement. He knew how fraught the situation was likely to get, and still he made the suggestion. Jack hedged. It seemed he not only needed Ianto's permission but his blessing as well. "Won't that leave you one short?"

Ianto shook his head. "Andy has already agreed to take your place. Take Captain Harkness back to mine after he's released. Let him recuperate somewhere he can see sunlight and get fresh air. You'll both be better for it." 

"I don't deserve you." Despite the fact Mark was approaching with the latest Rift calculations, Jack took Ianto's hand in his and gave it a heartfelt squeeze. Their eyes met for just a moment before Ianto pulled his hand away to busy himself with the espresso machine, and Mark cleared his throat to announce his presence. "We'll talk later," Jack promised.

Ianto nodded once, shut down the master controls, and handed Jack his coffee. He then gathered up some paperwork off his desk, and headed for the lower levels.

***

"Just the jumper, Captain," Felicity said as she plucked the shirt from Jack's fingers. "He's not quite ready yet to deal with all of those buttons." 

Captain Harkness looked surprisingly well for a man who had been trapped in a burning Spitfire, travelled in time, and then been dowsed in the sea. Felicity felt a warm surge of pride for her part in his recovery, and a fiercely protective need to see that her handiwork wasn't undone by the well-meaning actions of others. 

"His skin is still tender. He needs to be extremely careful whilst he heals." 

Jack shot her a glance that Felicity interpreted as, "Are you going to teach me to suck eggs next?"

She gave him an apologetic smile in return, but didn't back down. "I'm cutting him loose because any place is better than a hospital bed. But I'm telling you both, in the most stringent terms, don't push the process."

She pulled a screen around the two men to allow Captain Harkness some privacy as he dressed, and went to the small desk at the front of the room to gather up the instruction sheets she'd prepared, along with a bottle of vitamin tablets. The captain had a number of small deficiencies that were likely associated with a wartime diet. 

The screen retracted and Felicity nodded her approval. Once his skin had finished regenerating a little time in the sunshine would put the colour back in his cheeks. No scars marred his handsome face. She had done good work.

***

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Ianto?" Gwen raised her hand in farewell as Jack steadied their guest with a reassuring smile and a comforting arm around his shoulders. The paving stone began to ascend.

Ianto had a deep sense of foreboding gnawing in his stomach, but he kept his face bland as he added his farewell to hers before turning away. "I don't know what you mean," he replied. He doubted his misgivings had anything to do with Gwen's. Just because Captain Jack Harkness was tall and handsome, and for a brief moment in time Jack had loved him, there was no reason to worry, was there? 

Gwen put her hand on his arm, trying to guide him away from the eyes of Dev and Felicity. Ianto didn't know why she bothered, both women were completely immersed in a conversation of their own as they headed for the medical bay. Felicity was explaining the fine art of using pressure points to take down an opponent from a medical standpoint. The bit he overheard sounded like something the entire team might find useful, and would make a good training topic. 

Gwen leaned against her desk and looked up at him through the veil of her eyelashes. "It's just the last time Jack went one to one with someone from the past, he got a bit strange. And poor John. Well … died." 

Ianto sighed. "John died because he was too afraid to live. That was hardly Jack's fault."

"Maybe you're right." Gwen didn't sound convinced.

They'd discussed John's suicide at length at the time, and other than adding to Jack's guilt, they'd accomplished nothing.

"Still, I wish there was something else we could do." 

"Go home, Gwen," Ianto replied wearily. "Spend time with Rhys. Have a meal and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning." 

"And who made you the boss of me?" She tried to look stern, but the prospect of a few extra hours away was too much. 

Ianto wasn't really up for the game. He had too much work to do, and he needed to get some rest himself. "Unless you'd rather work the overnight?" 

"No need to get nasty." Gwen laughed. She gathered up her belongings and was heading for the tunnel exit before Ianto could muster up the energy to scowl.

He collapsed into the chair in front of her workstation, noting out of habit the roughly stacked case files. Gwen had been concerned about Jack's failure with John. Ianto had been more concerned by how solicitous Jack had been for the other Captain Harkness, and how comfortable the pilot looked in Jack's clothes. 

He was being stupid, Ianto thought, even as he brought the Internet browser out of hibernation and pulled up a department store website. Jack, his Jack, hated shopping for clothes. He'd be doing them both a favour. If it made him feel better, that was just cream on the pudding.

***

"Right. This will be home until we can figure something else out." Jack unlocked the door to Ianto's flat and flipped on the lights. "The layout's pretty straightforward." He pointed to the right. "Kitchen." Then straight ahead. "Lounge." And finally down the corridor. "Bathroom is the first door. Your room is the one on the right. I'll take the guest room on the left. The laundry is at the end of the hall opposite of where we came in." He glanced at his, or rather Ianto's, house guest. "I need to change the sheets on the bed. Why don't you make yourself comfortable. I'll just be a minute." 

Rather than taking a seat on the sofa, his companion did a slow circuit of the room, stopping every few feet to examine some object. The little stereo system and the collection of books and DVDs on the shelves were of particular interest, as was the small display of candid photographs arranged on the mantle: Jack drowsing in the sunshine. A photo of Ianto taken on the same bright day, smiling in a way he seldom did during working hours. A third of the two of them together, Ianto's arms wrapped protectively around Jack's waist, the look in his eyes fierce. The intimation was obvious: "Don't mess with my man." Jack smiled every time he looked at it. 

"What's this?" 

Jack picked up the remote and switched on the new flat screen television Ianto had recently purchased, but had yet to bolt to the wall. An advert for breakfast cereal filled the screen. "Television. I guess they were pretty new back in the '40's. Now we have hundreds of channels and you still can't ever find anything good on."

He received a wide-eyed look of amazement in reply. "It's like having the flicks in your own home." 

"That's mostly what we use it for. At least when we have the time." Jack smothered a smile. Television was going to be small potatoes compared to most of the technology that had come along in the last seventy years. "Do you like Bogart better as a gangster, or as the world-weary hero type?" 

"When did Bogart play the hero?" 

Jack was acutely aware of the other man's presence as he stood a little too close and examined Ianto's DVD collection. It was almost as if two years had disappeared and they'd just returned from the dance. Jack wondered about the powerful attraction he still felt, attraction he once thought was borne of his desire to offer comfort to a comrade whose life was about to end. 

"I guess most of those were after your day." He scooted around to the opposite side of the shelf, offering an awkward half-chuckle as he stumbled over his own feet, and started to grab the first DVD that came to hand. He saw at the last second that it was _Casablanca_ and shoved it back into place. He was feeling a bit too much like Rick as it was. _The Maltese Falcon_ seemed like a safer option.

"This will be a treat for you." He popped the disk into the player and cocked his head towards the sofa. "Sit down. Take the weight off. I'll get things fixed up in back. Later, if you're up to it, I'll take you out. We can hit a few shops. Maybe get a bite. How's that sound?"

"It sounds fine. James?" Captain Harkness returned to the collection of photographs and carefully removed the framed still of Ianto holding Jack in his arms. "If it's not prying, can I ask you something?"

Jack shrugged. They were going to have to get this name business straightened out sometime soon. "Sure. Shoot." 

"This photograph. It's very... bold." 

Jack smiled, remembering the moment and the person who had captured it. It was the last good day before Gray had come to town. Gwen had dragged them all out on a picnic, claiming the day was too gorgeous to be cooped up. Toshiko had brought her camera. Gwen had been right. It had been a perfect day, and he wouldn't trade the memories for anything. 

"Bold?" It took him a second, and then he understood. "A lot has changed since the '40's, Jack. Including the laws about men and their relationships. It's not something to be ashamed of any more." 

It was obvious from his expression the captain was trying to frame his questions without seeming rude or invasive. There was a fairly long pause before he spoke. "So you and he are... together. Openly, I mean?" 

Jack shrugged. "We try to keep quiet about it at work. But that's because I'm the CO and Ianto doesn't want anybody accusing me of favouritism. But the rest of the time." He shrugged.

He was on a first name basis with most of the neighbours, the lady that ran the corner shop, and the couple that ran The Bell, Ianto's local. You couldn't really get more open than that, except, he supposed, spending time with Ianto's family. But Ianto and his family weren't close, and when it came to family issues, sometimes it was better off not to push.

"I think I will sit down after all." 

Felicity had warned about over-aggressive acclimation. And although _he_ was supposed to be the expert, it was easy to see _she_ , in this instance, was right. Slow and steady was going to be the way. Jack started the film to give his guest something closer to familiar to hang onto, and went to take care of the household chores. 

He pottered around the flat, deliberately looking for excuses not to sit in the lounge and watch the video. It wasn't that he had anything against _The Maltese Falcon_ , but every time Jack looked at the captain he saw questions in his eyes that had nothing to do with the current state of political events or the changing tides of fashion. 

Jack told himself to get a grip and quit being a coward. The events of 1941 weren't just an elephant in the room, they were an entire herd. He and Jack were going to have to talk about what happened, if only to put it properly behind them. 

Brigid O'Shaughnessy was confiding to Sam Spade that she was a serial liar as Jack ran out of housekeeping excuses and returned to the lounge. She didn't sound too upset over her confession, and Spade didn't seem particularly impressed by her sudden attack of honesty. 

"I was beginning to think you were avoiding me." 

Jack suppressed his guilty feelings as he sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. He shook his head and tried to project nonchalance. "I thought you might want a little space. This can't be easy for you." 

"You'd make a terrible con artist, did you know that?" There was mixture of amusement and disappointment in the other man's voice. "You sound on the level, but your eyes give you away." He gave Jack a coy, sidelong glance. "That's how I knew." 

How on earth was he supposed to counter a charge like that? Jack prided himself on his skills as a conman. To be told he was lacking was like a swift kick to his ego. "Knew what?" 

"You kept pushing me away, and pushing me away. 'Go kiss Nancy.' 'Go be with your woman.' When I looked in your eyes I could see so plainly what you wanted to say was, 'Make love to me.' Why, James?"

"Because!" Jack stood abruptly and strode to the window. "I wanted to do the right thing, and I didn't know what that was. I knew you were going to die. I didn't want you to have any regrets."

"Are you trying to tell me you're lousy in the sack?" 

Jack turned around sharply and saw eyes filled with intense disbelief. For a brief instant he considered how much he still very much wanted to disabuse Jack of that notion with a demonstration. He shook his head. "You are such a good man. You're loyal and brave, and all the things I've aspired to be. Meeting you made me ashamed." 

"I don't understand." 

Jack offered a prayer for understanding as he said, "My name isn't James Harper. It's Jack Harkness. The first time I travelled to the 1940's I needed an alias. I stole your identity and have been using it for so long, I don't even remember what I called myself before." 

He expected outrage. Instead, his companion sounded thoughtful as he said, "You never struck me as a James. It's too sedate. A Jim or a Jimmy, maybe. Jack actually suits you." 

Jack stood very still, not quite sure he'd heard correctly. "You think so?" he asked hesitantly. His eyes dipped to the carpet before he looked up again. Adorable dimples and a rueful smile made his heart flutter as he recalled another conversation that had taken place mostly with veiled glances. 

"Uh huh. It's strange, I know I should probably be angry, but I'm flattered."

The silence stretched between them as they regarded one another, neither sure of what to say or do next. Captain Harkness took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He reached out and skimmed his fingers along Jack's cheekbone. 

"You have the most beautiful eyes. I'm guessing your version of Captain Jack Harkness is a real heartbreaker." 

Jack swallowed, caught between his sudden bout of nerves and scepticism. "Are you saying you aren't? Because I gotta tell you. The first thing I thought when I saw you was, 'That is one gorgeous hunk of man.'" 

The captain pointed at his chest. "You thought … me?" A blush suffused his cheeks.

Jack chuckled warmly. "Oh, yeah. Trust me. There I was stuck in the wrong era, with a colleague in tow, and all I was thinking about was — Well, let's just say, I thought Nancy was pretty damn lucky." He retreated to Ianto's makeshift bar, putting a bit of much needed space between them, and poured a couple of whiskys. He extended one of the tumblers to his guest. "What should we drink to?"

"Honesty?" 

"Honesty." Jack touched his glass to Jack's and wished they could have talked this openly seventy years sooner.

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

***

Mark loved the beauty of pure science. He thought the way a mathematical expression could describe a phenomenon, or predict an event where other tools failed, was magical. The best part of his duties as a university lecturer was the opportunity it gave him to share that magic with others, but nothing made him happier than the time spent in front of a computer testing one of his models and making it better.

The experiment with the Rift algorithm had been simultaneously satisfying and frustrating. It was as if he'd grasped the merry go round's brass ring, only to have it slip from his fingers. But merry go rounds and mathematical models had one thing in common, he could always try again. 

He inserted a new formula into the model and studied the display intently, watching as the graph on the screen reconfigured. Minutes passed by as the computer turned numerical expressions into a graphic representation subtly different than the one that preceded it. 

The pattern was as complex as a cat's cradle. Mark felt his mouth go dry. Only a few more minutes and he would have his answer. He took a sip of cold and bitter tea, anticipating the result.

The display minimised and a grid map popped up, overlaying his work. 

"Damn," Mark swore softly. At first he was annoyed at the disruption, but then he got a good look and swore a second time, more in surprise than irritation. Something was coming through the upper atmosphere at a great rate of speed. Hastily, he fitted his earpiece and tapped the comm. "Ianto." He looked around the Hub and spotted his colleague sitting at the Captain's desk. 

_What is it, Mark?"_ Through the comm system Ianto sounded if he was more than a little distracted. 

"Incoming metal object." Mark couldn't keep the quiver of excitement out of his voice. He should have been irritated. The predictor program hadn't put the probability of a new event at more than twenty-five percent. He wondered if by adding the time and locator elements to the protocol he'd changed something else involuntarily.

 _"Through the Rift?"_

"Affirmative." Anticipation roiled his stomach as Mark made his report. Whatever was coming through was a sizeable object. He brought up additional protocols trying to get more information. 

"Damn." Ianto ran down the catwalk. He stared at the display for a moment, an expression of intense concentration pinching his features. He reached around Mark and punched a series of commands into the computer. "Right. Scramble the team. We're going to receive guests."

***

Jack had just started a pot of coffee in the old fashioned percolator he'd scrounged from a boot sale, when there came a sharp knock at the door. He frowned. He wasn't expecting anyone. He peered through the peep hole. An overloaded courier waited rather impatiently. 

The delivery man lowered the stack of boxes so he could see the clipboard on top as Jack opened the door. "You... uh... Jack Harkness?" Jack nodded. The delivery man shoved the stack of boxes and the clipboard at him. "Delivery." 

The boxes were all imprinted with the John Lewis logo. "Anything breakable?" Jack asked.

The driver shrugged. "I just deliver them, mate. I don't do the packing." 

There was a muffled exclamation from the lounge as Jack lowered the boxes to the ground with a thump. The driver raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. He picked up the clipboard and held it out for a signature. Jack scrawled his name illegibly, gave the driver a fiver out of Ianto's stash of housekeeping money, and after he let the driver out, ran the scanner setting of his wrist strap over the boxes. 

"What's this?" Captain Jack rubbed at his eyes. He still sounded befuddled by sleep.

Jack shrugged back at him. He used a kitchen knife to break the sealing tape on the top-most box, and lifted the lid. "Someone's been shopping." He handed the pyjamas over. "Looks about your size."

They sorted through the parcels. There were several pairs of trousers and jeans, shirts, jumpers, a jacket, two pair of shoes, socks, belts and underclothes. Everything was casual enough not to raise eyebrows, but formal enough that a man from the '40's would feel comfortable wearing them. "Looks like all you need is a toothbrush and razor, and I think we've got spares," Jack said.

"I didn't want to say anything, but I'd be nice to have something of my own. Do you mind if I — " 

"No, of course not." 

Jack consulted his watch and dialled Ianto as his guest picked up several items and disappeared down the hallway. He frowned when the call went straight to voice mail.

***

Ianto set the handbrake automatically. His eyes were on the crash scene assessing the situation. The beach where the ship had come down was deserted, fortunately. At least they'd be spared the inconvenience of retconning witnesses. "Reading?" 

Mark raked a hand through the dark fringe that hung over his forehead. The rest of his wavy brown hair was neatly bound into a shoulder-length ponytail by a leather thong. "Life signs. No radiation or harmful gasses or emissions." 

"Thank God for that," Ianto said softly. "Andy, get on with your colleagues and set up a perimeter." He wished they could recruit enough agents to dispense with the services of half-trained police officers, but Jack preferred to grow the team slowly. The Field Officer in Training program would continue for the foreseeable future.

"Right you are." Andy got out of the SUV, bundled deeper into his anorak, and made the call. 

"Dr Porter. What's your E.T.A.?" 

_"Two minutes."_

"Gwen?" 

_"Here, Ianto. We're getting chatter over the 999 lines about booming noises and weird lights in the skies."_

"Start feeding information from reliable witnesses it was a light plane that exploded and went down," Ianto instructed. "We're going to need a flatbed lorry. Do you suppose Rhys can fix it?"

_"This time of night?"_

"Yeah, sorry. There's no way this lot is going to fit in the back of the SUV."

 _"He'll moan, but I'll find a way to make it up to him."_ Gwen didn't sound too upset at the prospect.

"Tell him usual rates," Ianto suggested. "That should sweeten the deal." He cut the connection. Felicity and Dev, both heavily laden with field medical kits, were jogging towards the crash site. He hurried to join them.

***

"You need anything else?" 

Jack shook his head and reclined against fresh pillows. He was completely done in, although he'd felt all right earlier when they'd gone out for a meal and a walk around the neighbourhood. It was all so much to take in. Fashion changed. Governments changed, rising and falling and tilting from right to left and back again. He still hadn't got a handle on his place in all of it. He was here in the 21st century. There was no going back to his former life, which would have been regrettably short in any event. He was going to have to make a new one. 

"Did you feel lost the first time you travelled in time?" he asked quietly. 

His namesake pushed off the door frame. He smiled wistfully and chuckled softly. "You have no idea. There I was, young and cocky, ready for anything, and I got dumped in this backwater era where nothing worked like I was used to."

He dropped down onto the bed and stretched out with his arms pillowed behind him. "Oh sure, there'd been all kinds of briefings and lectures telling me what to expect, and how I should act, but it didn't make a blind bit of difference." 

"But it got easier?" Jack toyed with the duvet for a second. He was as scared as he'd been at the Ritz, and feeling no less lonely. He looked over into confident blue eyes. He could get lost in those eyes.

"It gets easier." The hand that was offered was a small comfort, but Jack took it, grateful for any reassurance. "I can't promise it will all be smooth sailing. Rebuilding never is. But if you'll let me help you, I'll do all I can to see you through." 

They lay in silence, hands clasped. Jack hadn't ever been in a situation like this before. His sexual dealings with other men had been few and far between. There'd been a boy in college. They'd fumbled their way into bed one night after drinking too much bathtub gin, and never spoken of what happened again. There'd been another, not long after he'd arrived in London, and that experience had been just as fraught.

Mostly, he'd been with a string of women like Nancy, whom he'd left hurt and confused. He'd squire them to picnics and dances, take moonlight walks, and offer sweet goodnight kisses, but he always pushed them away before he got in too deep. 

"What about us?" He hadn't intended to ask the question that had been haunting his thoughts, but it slipped away from him. Men in his time didn't ask each other those sorts of things. Maybe Jack wouldn't understand what he really meant.

The pressure around his fingers increased for a moment and then eased. Jack's heart sank and he felt a wash of shame. "I'm sorry. You're with someone. I had no right to ask." 

Instead of pulling away, his companion shifted, sitting up straighter against the headboard. He extended his arm in offering. "I've never been much on the 'gentleman' part of the officer and gentleman routine, but lately, I've been trying harder to get it right. All I can give you is comfort and friendship." 

Jack nodded and crawled into a very welcome embrace. In that moment, that was more than enough.

***

Ianto was knackered. It had taken most of the night to clear up the crash site and get the injured crew and their ship back to the Hub. Now they had two new patients in the infirmary, and a craft that might be spaceworthy, given enough elbow grease and time, to contend with. 

He let himself quietly into his flat. He was sore and filthy and longed for his own bed, but knew he'd have to wait and make do with Jack's. He'd only stopped by to deliver a status report and pick up a change of clothes. He needed jeans and a couple of warm shirts. The subterranean maintenance bay was impossible to heat properly, and he had no intention of freezing down there whilst he was working. 

"Ianto?" Jack's voice was sleepy and muffled, and came from the vicinity of the sofa. 

Ianto paused with his hand on the overhead light switch. He withdrew it and replied softly, "Yeah, it's me." 

There was motion on the sofa. As Ianto watched, Jack emerged from a duvet nest. First one arm, then the other, followed by his tousled head. 

"What are you doing out here?" Ianto said as Jack made room and extended an arm in invitation. He looked down at his suit, currently spotted in places with alien hydraulic fluid and blood, and shook his head. "I need a wash." 

Jack sniffed the air and his nose wrinkled. "Want some company?" 

Ianto was already whispering, but he lowered his voice even further. "What about — " He tipped his head towards the bedroom. 

"Out like a light." Jack got up and stretched, running his fingers through his hair and managing to make himself even more appealing. "Which is what you look like you should be." 

Hours of work crept up and sapped what was left of Ianto's stamina. He sagged under the weight of Jack's concern. "Long night. A Toza ship came through the Rift. Heavy damage to the craft, and there were crew casualties. Including one fatality." He leaned into the arm that wrapped around his shoulders. He didn't protest as Jack helped him out of his clothes. The shower no longer seemed important. He'd made his report. Now all he wanted was to have a long and uninterrupted sleep. 

"Come on, Tiger." 

Ianto didn't reply. He let Jack pull him down onto the sofa, under the duvet, and into dreams.

***

Jack woke in a strange bed. He felt more rested than he had in days. The dull ache in his head was gone, and his face and hands no longer itched or tingled. He stretched and yawned and realised, rather belatedly, that he was alone.

"Jack?" He called out softly, before rising from the bed and peering down the hallway. The bathroom door was open, as was that of the little office-cum-guest room across the hall. He padded the short length of the corridor and entered the lounge. The sofa was occupied, the parties mostly covered by a blue duvet. It shifted with their motions, exposing the occasional flash of a clenched hand, pale shoulder, or naked thigh. Jack froze and stared, listening to the muffled moans and hitched breaths, unsure if he should retreat back the way he'd come, or brazen his way into the kitchen. 

"Good morning, Captain." 

The voice was Welsh, husky, and slightly out of breath. It belonged to the dark-haired man who featured so prominently in the mantle photographs. 

"Ianto!" Jack didn't sound at all pleased at the interruption.

There was motion under the blanket and the Welshman disappeared, only to pop his head out again a few moments later. "Sorry, would you mind excusing us?" 

Jack nodded, heat flushing his cheeks pink, before retreating back down the hallway. He closed the bedroom door firmly and leaned against it, clamped his eyes tightly shut, and dropped his head against his chest, trying to blot out the image of the two men making love. 

Jack heard the sound of running water, his namesake chortling as he said, 'Will you just relax?' and Jones' retort of 'You're incorrigible.' There was the slam of a door and the flat grew much quieter. Minutes ticked by on the digital display of the bedside clock. Eventually the water shut off and there was a knock at the door.

"It's safe to come out now." 

Cautiously, he opened the door. Jack was bare-chested and still damp from washing. "The shower's all yours," he added brightly as he went to the bureau, began rummaging the contents, and fished out various articles of clothing. He was humming jauntily, and a contented smile kept flitting over his lips. He had the well-satisfied look of a man who had knocked one out of the park. 

It was as if nothing unusual had transpired. Maybe in this era it hadn't, but after spending the night cradled in Jack's arms, finding him in the embrace of a lover hurt. "So that's him." Somehow he'd managed to sound as casual as if they were discussing the weather, and it came as a surprise. 

"That's him. Ianto Jones."

Though he tried to find something else to occupy his attention, he couldn't quite manage to completely avert his gaze. He watched the play of the other man's muscles as he pulled an under-shirt over his head and smoothed it into place. The stack of clothes on top of the bureau grew as work shirts joined socks and underwear. 

The view was getting to him. He mentally recited the alphabet backwards. He visualised the fiery crackup of a pilot named Rogers, but it didn't do any good. The robe draped over the chair at least offered another layer of concealment. It became hard to breathe as he cinched the belt too tight, but it was a welcome distraction from the tension in his groin.

The smile continued to flit over still too-pink lips as trousers were pushed downward, revealing more bare skin. They were dumped unceremoniously into the laundry basket before being replaced by a pair of briefs. Shirts and trousers and blue jeans from the closet were alternately dropped onto the top of the bureau or pulled into place. When Jack was finished dressing he glanced over his shoulder. "Shower. Don't dawdle." He scooped up the remaining clothes and winked as he vacated the bedroom.

***

The kitchen smelled of frying meat and coffee when he entered a short time later. Ianto Jones sat at the table spreading jam on a piece of toast as Jack stood at the stove and scrambled eggs. 

"Good morning again," Jones said. "Sorry about earlier. Carpe diem, and all of that." 

He hoped his answering smile wasn't too sickly as he diverted his gaze to watch as Jack portioned out eggs and bacon that was more like ham.

"Sit down, dig in." Jack handed his lover a plate, put a second in the place opposite, along with a mug of coffee, and took the last with him as he dropped into the spot nearest the stove. "I was going to take you sightseeing today, but something big has come up at work." 

It wasn't as if he needed to be babysat, and he had no desire to be an imposition. "That's okay. I can entertain myself. Although, if I could borrow a few pounds until I can work something out? For expenses." 

Jones cleared his throat and received a sidelong glance in return. The entire exchange had the feeling of a half-completed conversation being continued.

"Sure. Not a problem. But I wasn't planning on abandoning you. I want you to come with us. There's something you really ought to see." 

"What's that?" He took a sip of his coffee. It was dark and rich, and strong as the stuff in the mess hall. It made him feel a bit more grounded and at home.

Jack grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "That would be telling. Believe me, this is one surprise you don't want spoiled." He forked more food into his mouth, rapidly cleaning his plate. Jones cleared his throat significantly. His namesake frowned, put down his fork, and shot the other man an expression of concession. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. 

"The thing is, Jack, people do still use the folding stuff, but most commercial transactions are done electronically." He handed over a generous stack of notes, and then pulled out a couple of brightly-coloured plastic cards and placed them on the table. He tapped the one on the left with his index finger. "Cash point card. You swipe it through a card reader and it takes funds directly from your bank account to pay for goods and services." He pointed at the second. "Credit card. Same thing, but then you pay the holding company for expenses you've made on the cuff." 

Jack picked up the two cards and examined them as the explanation continued. 

"In order to have these things, we need to establish you a new identity. And since I'm Jack Harkness now, you need to come up with something else."

He handed back the cards and raised his eyes to the other man's face, studying it. It felt like he'd missed something. "Why? In my day, lots of people had the same name, and other people still managed to keep them straight. At least most of the time." 

"That's true," Jones said. "And it's still true. Especially for financial transactions because you're also assigned unique identifying numbers." He hesitated for a second and seemed sort of uncomfortable. "But Jack Harkness is a rather notorious figure these days. One you'd be better off not being mistaken for." 

His eyes flickered back to the other Jack's face. He also looked more than a little uncomfortable. "Notorious?" 

He received a shrug in return. "I'm not sure I'd put it like that, but Ianto does have a point. You need to start fresh. A new identity could make it easier." 

The idea was appealing. A new life. New name. A new beginning all the way around. He extracted a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. Before he started this new life there were questions about his old one he wanted to put to rest. He pushed the paper across the table. "It's just a few names. People I was close to once. I'd like to know what happened to them." 

Jack frowned as he studied the list. "We know about your aunt. Are you sure about the rest? Sometimes it's really better not to look back." 

"We all have our duty. I'd like to know what happened to my men. And to her. To Nancy."

Jones took the list and tucked it into his pocket. "I'll put Dev on it."

There was a sudden, small burst of music. Jones pulled a mobile telephone from the pocket of his blue jeans and flipped it open. Jack had been taken aback by how commonplace personal electronic devices, including telephones, had become. It seemed yesterday, on his re-introductory tour of town, everybody had some sort of pocket-sized contraption glued to their ear.

"Yep?" Jones rose from the table and carried his plate to the sink, talking softly as he exited the kitchen.

Jack knocked back his coffee and and started to do the washing up. It seemed that breakfast was over.

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

***

Felicity stood in the dispensary and contemplated the supply of drugs at her disposal. Most had come from local distributors, a few were from a highly secret government laboratory, there were even a few bottles and blister packs that had been scavenged from downed alien ships. Unfortunately, nothing in the inventory of non-human medications matched with her current needs. The pilots of the Toza ship were stable and on the mend, but in considerable pain from their injuries.

According to the notes in the medical database, atropine, normally considered a stimulant, was a muscle relaxant and anti-inflammatory for the Toza. She selected a bottle from the shelf. 

The Toza were similar to humans in general appearance. They could pass without difficulty as long as one didn't look too closely at their catlike eyes, take a diagnostic scan, or examine their blood chemistry. Felicity was rather glad of that. They were similar enough for her to still be in her comfort zone, and unique enough to challenge her experience and expectations. In short, they were the perfect clinical subjects to build her confidence. 

Since her arrival, she had spent nearly all her free time studying the medical logs and databases. She had learned a great deal, but still felt far from comfortable about treating some of the more exotic species that were likely to come through the Rift. She supposed that was one of the reasons her predecessor, Dr Harper, had spent so much time doing autopsies. There was no better way to learn about structure and physiology than hands on experience. And you couldn't harm a patient that was already dead. 

She prepared a pair of syringes and carried them with her into the infirmary. Both patients were awake, their faces grim and pain filled. Felicity was careful not to smile. In the Toza culture, to smile at an injured person was considered very bad form. On a rolling equipment tray there sat a mobile translator unit. She spoke very clearly into it as she removed the syringe from her pocket. "For the pain."

The pilot nodded and said something incomprehensible. His forehead wrinkled as the translator spoke a bare second after he did. He contemplated the box for a moment and then repeated in a slightly slurred tone, "Thank you." 

The pilot spoke again as Felicity injected atropine into his I.V. bag. "More words?" the translator unit supplied. 

"I'll arrange it. Now rest." 

She dosed the second Toza, then glanced at her watch as she withdrew. When she'd last spoken to Ianto he'd been headed for a brief trip home to pick up a change of clothes. She hadn't seen him since. She hesitated for a moment before dialling his mobile number. He'd wanted to know if there was any significant change in the status of her patients. He picked up on the second ring, and she gave her report.

***

"Isn't she a sweetheart," Jack whispered reverently. 

Ianto's lips curled into a small, half-smile. There were times he wished he had Jack's gift for seeing beauty in unlikely places. To him the 'sweetheart' in question looked like a badly mangled hunk of metallic debris.

From their limited analysis of the Toza ship, it appeared their troubles started when it was hit by an asteroid. The chunk of rock punched a hole through the bulkhead, destroying a number of critical systems and killing one of the crew. Out of control and unable to navigate, the Toza were helpless to avoid being sucked into the Rift, sustaining further damage. In a last ditch effort to save themselves, the pilot separated the crew compartment from the rest of the ship. Both sections of the cruiser had landed hard.

Captain Harkness seemed completely awestruck. He turned to Jack and said, "Can I — " He held out his hand. When Jack nodded, the captain approached almost reverently and stroked the side of the battered hull. "It's fantastic. Like something out of _Amazing Stories_." He smiled softly. "You know, I always dreamed of working at one of the aeronautical companies after the war."

"Test pilot?" Jack asked. 

Captain Harkness shook his head. "Engineer. I studied physics and mechanical design in college." 

"Then you'll really appreciate what this baby's got under her hood," Jack replied. "Come on. Let's see what it's gonna take to get her back in action."

Ianto trailed close enough to take notes, but far enough behind to observe the interaction of the other two men. They quickly fell into an animated discussion over various ship's systems. As the pair frowned and sighed over damaged wiring and leaking hydraulics, Jack added to Ianto's list of items to retrieve from stores. 

Jack clapped Captain Harkness on the shoulder. "Come on and give us a hand rounding this stuff up. Then we can get our hands dirty and really have some fun." 

Ianto glanced heavenward. He suspected that if Jack hadn't fallen into a life of soldiering that his true calling would have been as a ship's mechanic. Once he got a spanner in his hand he was absolutely useless for anything else. 

They headed out of the service area and through a pair of large bay doors into The Garage. Over the years, Torchwood had salvaged a great many space craft. Most were just bits and pieces, but there were a few derelicts that had been slowly stripped of their secrets by researchers, or their parts to repair the damaged ships of unlucky travellers. 

One of the first things Ianto had noticed after he had been made custodian of the archive was how — unlike the rest of the collection, which had largely had been left to moulder slowly under thick layers of dust — The Garage was lovingly tended, its shelves and storage units clean and neatly organised. He had little doubt whose handiwork that was.

Jack's eyes glowed with anticipation. Like a child in a sweet shop, he was, Ianto thought fondly as he handed over the list. "Let me know if you need anything." 

"You're not gonna stay and help?" Jack sounded disappointed. 

"Things to do upstairs." Ianto tipped his head towards Captain Harkness who was studying one of the equipment racks with a rapt expression. "At any rate, I think you've got an able assistant. But I have to ask, Jack, is it a good idea to show him so many of our secrets?" 

"He's going to need somewhere to start over. I'm thinking of asking him to stay on." 

Captain Harkness was watching them. There was something wistful about his expression. Ianto met his eyes for a second, and then turned his attention back to Jack. "It's cold down here." As usual, Jack was wearing nothing more than a cotton shirt over a vest. There was a fine layer of goose flesh raising the skin of his arms below his rolled up sleeves. Ianto stripped off his hoodie and handed it over. "I'll bring down some coffee after I get things sorted in the office." 

Jack gave him one of those small, genuine smiles that melted Ianto’s heart. "Thanks."

Ianto started to speak, but Jack turned away and hailed the other Jack. They fell into a renewed discussion over the Toza ship, and Ianto had the feeling he'd been utterly forgotten by the time he reached the lift.

***

"Ianto!" Gwen was surprised. It was the second time in as many days Ianto was dressed casually during working hours. "New look?" she asked as she flicked her eyes over his loosely-cut blue jeans and thick flannel shirt. 

"I wasn't going to sacrifice another Armani playing Jack's grease monkey," he replied somewhat sourly. "Fortunately, he's drafted another assistant." His gaze travelled away from Gwen and towards Felicity, who was just coming out of the infirmary. "I was just going to change." 

Felicity approached. "Good morning." She greeted them both, but turned her attention immediately to Ianto. "Thank you with your help earlier." 

"Any trouble?" 

Felicity shook her head. "None at all. The Toza took to the training like ducks to water. It's remarkable. They're both sleeping, but their EEG activity indicates they're in an active mental state. I guess subliminal learning really is effective in some cases."

"Subliminal learning?" Gwen had only heard it talked about on late night telly and in Internet spam adverts. "You mean like for quitting smoking or learning Spanish while you sleep? That sort of subliminal learning?" 

"Exactly so." For someone who had been up most of the night, Felicity seemed way too crisply put together and alert. She always seemed spotless, no matter how up to her elbows in mess she was. Gwen had yet to figure out the doctor's secret. "Only in the Toza's case, it's English. Their pilot wasn't comfortable with the translator unit speaking for him." 

"I don't wonder," Gwen said. "That thing gives me the creeps. Oh! That reminds me, speaking of creeps, I've got to go out in a bit and have a word with that old fellow, Mr Sallowford, over near the park. He says he seeing funny shadows in the back garden again." 

Ianto sighed. "I thought we'd routed the Delbrish out of those warrens." 

"Delbrish?" Felicity said. Her brow wrinkled at the unfamiliar name. 

"Nasty little hobgoblin of a rodent sort of creature," Gwen explained. "They project this field around their nests that messes with peoples' perceptions. Makes them think they're seeing ghosts and things. It seems they're back. Would it be all right if I took Andy with me? He's good with a spade." 

Ianto nodded. "Yeah, but don't be all day about it. They're going to need all the hands they can get putting that ship back together. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to slip into something more appropriate." 

He moved swiftly away towards Jack’s office, and presumably the bunker below. Gwen exchanged a glance with Felicity. "I never understood that. As far as Jack is concerned, he could come to work in his pyjamas. But he always insists on dressing the part."

"The part? I don't understand," Felicity said.

"Mr Efficiency," Gwen explained. "Three piece suit. Tie just so. Shoes so polished you can see yourself." 

Felicity straightened the lines of her lab coat. "Some people are just more comfortable in a uniform. It's a seed of order in a chaotic world."

Gwen looked around the ancient structure of the Hub and considered. She hadn't ever thought about it quite that way before. It gave her a new insight into both her overly fastidious colleagues. 

She started to reply, when the proximity alarm sounded and Mark, considerably less ordered or organised, came through. His hair was scraped back into a rough ponytail, and he had neglected to shave. His apple-pink cheeks were still rough with bristles. One tail of his shirt had escaped from his trousers. He had a messenger bag over one shoulder, and he held a paper sack in the hand that wasn't loaded down with books.

"Morning. Breakfast." He waved the sack at Felicity. "Gwen, your lads are starting to mill about upstairs."

Gwen glanced at her watch and swore under her breath. "Right. Felicity, tell Andy when he gets up about the Delbrish. And tell him don't forget his sunglasses!" she called over her shoulder as she hurried out.

***

It had taken her the bulk of the day, but Dev was feeling well satisfied as she pushed away from the work station. Earlier, Ianto had handed her a list of names and a couple of highly restricted pass codes. He then gave her permission to dig deep into any government archive she needed, including those on the other side of the Atlantic.

It all felt very exciting at first, hacking databases. But as she filled out a series of short reports and ticked names from the list, eventually it became a bit depressing. For too many of the queries, all she could note was 'killed in action' alongside a date and a place before she moved on.

Still, a few had survived the war, and some of their lives had been quite interesting. She hoped the poor man they'd fished from the Channel received some comfort from knowing about his friends. 

Dev heard voices behind her. She stretched her arms high over her head as she spun her chair. 'Dishy' Mark emerged from the tunnels just as the proximity alarm sounded and 'Not Half Bad' Andy entered carrying a metal cage. She jumped lightly from the chair to meet them halfway. Andy waved, dropped the box on the autopsy table, and disappeared into the infirmary.

"So where have you been hiding?" Dev asked Mark.

Mark looked blissed out. His dark brown eyes were dreamy. If Dev hadn't seen the same expression on his face when he had been parked for endless hours at his computer, she would have put it down to smoking funny cigarettes. "Working down below on the spaceship." He peered at her face and then touched her cheek. "You've got ink, just there." 

Automatically, Dev's fingers traced the spot Mark had touched. "Bloody leaking pen." She started to spit into her hand to rub the ink away, and then thought better of it. "I'll just go have a wash." 

"I'm on that way myself. Come on." Mark offered his arm and together they headed for the locker room.

***

"May I give you a hand, Felicity?" 

The doctor peeled off her gloves and dropped them on top of the necropsied Delbrish, and then bundled the drape on which it rested into a neat packet. "Thanks, I think I'm all right. I'm just going to carry this down to the incinerator and then clean up. Are you going to the pub?"

Ianto hesitated. He'd been invited as a matter of course earlier, but he'd begged off. "No. I'm going to keep an eye on things here. You?" 

She shook her head. "I confess, I'm tempted, but I've got more tests I want to run on the toxin these creatures emit. Plus, I really should keep an eye on my other patients." 

"They're stable, aren't they?" Ianto walked down the catwalk into the autopsy bay, picked up the tray of surgical instruments, and took them to the sink. He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves before opening the taps. "I can text you if something comes up, it's no trouble." 

Felicity moved to his side and added a few more stainless steel trays to the washing up. "Nonsense. I'm perfectly capable of watching the comms for an hour. You go. Bring me back some fish and chips." She nudged Ianto's arm. "Go on. Doctor's orders. You've been on the move all day long. Sit down, eat something that isn't fried." 

Ianto raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Do as I say, not as I do?"

"Now you know my secret." Felicity laughed. "Yes, I know, I'm a terrible hypocrite." She lowered her voice. "Don't tell the others, but I've been known to sneak the occasional fag when no one was looking, too." 

He did have to eat sometime, and there would be others around if things got too awkward. "Yeah, all right. We'll just be over the road."

***

"So there's Toshiko, eyes as big as saucers, being ... danced might be too generous a word, hauled around the dance floor." Captain Harkness exchanged a look with Jack and both men laughed heartily. 

"So I try and break things up," Jack interjected. "Only the flyboy wasn't too happy about that, and he takes a poke at me. And that's how Jack and I met."

"Poor Tosh. She must have been in such a state," Gwen said.

"She was brilliant," Jack corrected. "Much cooler about the situation than I was." 

"I'm so sorry to hear of her passing." Captain Harkness raised his glass. "She was a true hero. To Miss Toshiko Sato." 

"To Toshiko," Ianto said, echoing the voices of the rest of his team mates. He drained his glass and rose. "I've got to get back." He put his hand on Jack's shoulder. Their eyes met for just a second. 

"I'll walk you out." 

"Please tell Miss Agi 'thank you' for finding this information so quickly," Captain Harkness said as Ianto slipped into his overcoat.

Ianto nodded. He was conscious of motion behind him. Gwen excusing herself to go to the loo. Andy rising to go to the bar and put in another round. He turned his head and caught Captain Harkness watching their exit. Ianto casually slipped his arm across Jack's shoulders and escorted him outside. "It sounds like the Ritz was quite a place in its heyday." It was cold out, and Ianto shivered at the sudden change in temperature. 

Jack didn't notice. He was lost in his memories. "I wish I could have shown you, Ianto. It was such a fantastic time in its way. Unique." He came out of his reverie and noticed Ianto fumbling with the carrier bag as he pulled on his gloves. Impulsively, he draped his arms over Ianto's shoulders. "We could have danced." 

Ianto let Jack lead him around for a few steps. "We can still dance, just not tonight. I need to get back." They melted into each others arms and Ianto savoured the contact. "Don't get too lost in the past," he whispered before slipping out of the embrace and walking rapidly across the Plass.

***

"You seemed pretty restless last night. Is everything okay?" Jack helped himself to coffee, and then dropped into his chair at the kitchen table. 

The captain looked subdued as he set aside the morning paper. 

"Sorry, couldn't sleep. All those war stories, they got me thinking. So many good people taken before their times." He handed the newspaper over. It was folded to the obituary section. "Then I saw this. It wasn't in Miss Agi's report. Nancy's memorial is this morning." 

Normally Jack avoided the obituaries. They tended to hold memories, some of them unwelcome. He quickly scanned over the announcements until he came to the one for Nancy. The years had been kind to her. He could still see traces of the young woman she had been in the photograph. "That might not be the best idea." 

"Why not?" 

Jack always seemed to have this conversation with the time displaced. No one ever took his advice, but he always tried anyway. He drank coffee as he shrugged. "What good would it do? You have your memories of her. Let that be enough." 

The dark eyes that met his seemed haunted. "I was trying to work up the nerve to break it off with her the night you and I met. She thought she loved me. She probably mourned me. I feel like I owe her the same courtesy." 

Jack felt old guilt wash over him. He'd kept pushing the pair together even though he'd seen the other man's repeated attempts to give her the brush off. "Do you want some company?" 

"I don't want to impose. You've got your work. A spaceship to repair." 

"It's not a problem," Jack replied firmly.

***

"You're sure about this?" Andy looked doubtfully at the length of hydraulic tubing snaking along the concrete floor of the maintenance bay.

Mark picked up the cutters. He pointedly double checked the specification sheet he and Jack had worked up. "Will you relax? It's just like anything. Measure twice and cut once." 

Andy crossed his arms over his chest. He supposed Mark was right. Repairing spaceships didn't really _seem_ much different from torquing on cars or boats, when you got down to it. But without Jack, and his casual confidence to buoy the work, everything started to seem foreign and mysterious again. "I dunno. I wish the boss was around to look this over." He watched as Mark checked the length one more time and then carefully severed the tube.

" _The boss_ was the one that said to get the hydraulic system up and running before he got back, remember?" Mark looped the tubing into a loose coil and dropped it over his shoulder. He consulted the schematic again, picked up a small spanner, and used a mechanic's creeper to roll underneath the damaged spaceship.

"Uh, it's a rat's nest under here. We're lucky he's booked off. It's going to take forever to get this mess sorted. Grab a torch and give us a hand, will you?"

***

It was a grey day, the sort that suited funerals. Jack felt distinctly uncomfortable as they threaded their way through the tombstones and monuments. There were many elderly people among the assembled mourners. Automatically, he mentally de-aged the faces, trying to determine if there was anybody he knew among the crowd. 

"Remember," he said softly to his companion. "If anybody asks, we're looking for the grave of your great-uncle." He paused next to a carved stone cherub. "We can watch from here." 

The nod he received was distracted. The service was starting, and the former Captain Harkness had eyes for nothing but the minister reading the Service for the Dead, and the pink rose-covered coffin that lay on a bier in front of them. 

Jack had attended many funerals. He'd even conducted his fair share. They always left him with a faint sense of envy at their conclusion. No one would ever mourn Jack Harkness with love and affection. No one would ever pay him tribute. 

It seemed an irrational reaction to marking the end of someone else's life. But funerals reminded Jack that he was a freak, an unnatural thing that defied the order of the universe. He was in a bitter mood when the last of the mourners dispersed, and they finally made their way graveside to add a bouquet of yellow roses to the pile of floral tributes. 

"You were right." The tone of the admission echoed Jack's bitterness and pulled him out of his pensive thoughts. "This was a mistake. I should have never come." 

Jack glanced at his watch. It was half past noon. "Let's go get a drink."

It didn't take them long to find a secluded booth in the back of the nearest pub. The place was neat but shabby, the floor worn and stained with beer and marred where cigarettes had been ground against it. Jack bought large whiskys and pints of strong ale, and stared at his whilst Jack knocked back both, tipped his head against the wall, and shut his eyes. 

"I keep thinking about that night. How brave she was when I told her I didn't want to make love to her because I was afraid of hurting her. She thought I was being noble. I just wanted to avoid telling her I loved her." He looked at Jack with weary eyes. "I got so tired of lying to her."

He drank the last of his beer and pushed the glass away. "The sad part of it was, if I'd survived the war, I mean if I'd survived it back then, I probably would have asked her to marry me. Her people expected it. And it would have made my aunt happy." 

Jack put down his glass. He'd emptied all but the dregs. "But you didn't love her." 

"No. But she'd have never known otherwise. I would have been a good husband, and a good father. Those could have been my grandkids we saw today if things had played out differently." He rose from the table abruptly and headed for the bar. 

Jack drank his whisky. How many men had he known who had married their 'sweethearts' only to use them to cover up secret lives? The answer was too many. At least Jack and Nancy had been spared that indignity. 

More beer and whisky glasses thumped briefly against the table before being resolutely emptied. Even though Jack shared the bitter mood, it didn't absolve him of his responsibilities. "You might want to ease up a little," he said as another empty glass was pushed to the centre of the table.

The eyes that met his were bereft. "More good advice?" 

Jack shrugged. He'd tried to warn him. "At least let me take you home first." 

"I haven't got a home. I haven't got a life." His companion laughed harshly. "I'm just borrowing yours." He held out his hand. "Dance with me."

"What?" The request had come so abruptly, and out of nowhere, Jack was momentarily unsure he’d heard correctly.

"Come on, Captain. You said you’d offer me comfort. Well, what I want right now is to dance away the memory of Nancy in her box. And those people. And those damned pink roses."

Jack swallowed some more of his beer. It didn’t go down easily. He knew what would happen if he took Jack into his arms. The dancing wouldn’t stop at a waltz. "Let’s have another drink first." He avoided Jack's eyes, unwilling to see the hurt he knew filled them, and got up to order another round.

***

"See? That wasn't so bad was it?" Mark wiped his hands on a rag and tossed it into a bin. "The ship is replumbed, the electronics are coming along. I wish we could get a better read on the comms, but until the Toza can let us into their system, there's not a lot we can do."

"I'm bloody starving." Andy looked at his watch. "God. Will you look at the time. What do you say we nip out get something to eat before the rest bugger off?" 

"Pub?" Mark hopped on one foot as he pulled off his trainers, stripped out of his coveralls, and dropped them on top of the dirty rags.

Andy regarded the state of his hands. "Let me grab a shower."

Mark chuckled. "Yeah. Okay. Let me swing by my desk, check a couple of programs I've been running, and I'll catch you up."

***

Ianto eyed the long list of charges on the bill and handed his credit card over. He signed the chit, took back his own and Jack's cards, and gave the barman a pair of twenty pound notes. "Get yourself several." 

He followed the sound of inebriated voices raised in song. Jack was sitting at a battered piano surrounded by elderly people. His greatcoat was nowhere to be seen, although Ianto recognised the black wool topcoat draped across the piano as his. The suits both Jacks were wearing were his too. In fact, it looked like his wardrobe had been thoroughly raided. The captain was sitting on the bench, leaning on Jack's shoulder and trying to harmonise to _The White Cliffs of Dover_.

Thank God Jack's new Mercedes wasn't going to be delivered until next week, Ianto thought as he listened to the mangled chords being wrought from the piano. The idea of Jack trying to negotiate the car park, let alone the open road, in his current condition, was horrific.

He smiled politely at the old dears as he made his way to stand at Jack's side. "Time to go," he announced as the last mournful verse concluded. 

"Ianto, sweetheart, what're you doin' here?" Jack slurred. 

Captain Harkness frowned, irritated at both the interruption and Jack's sudden attempt to get to his feet.

Ianto steadied Jack, taking some comfort from the delighted smile that had broken over the other man's face. "You called me, remember? Now, come on, let's go home." 

"Have a drink first." He tried to simultaneously wave for the barman and sit back at the piano, pulling Ianto down with him. 

It was rare to see Jack get so drunk. Whatever the two men had spent their day doing must have raked up difficult memories. "I think you've had enough for the both of us." 

The barman approached warily. "Anything I can do, lads?"

"If you could?" Ianto inclined his head towards the topcoat and Captain Harkness as he fumbled his keys out of his pocket. He got a better purchase on Jack and helped him back to his feet. 

Captain Harkness fell asleep against Jack's shoulder nearly as soon as he got into the car. Ianto watched through the rear view mirror as Jack wrapped his arm good-naturedly around the sleeping man's shoulder and kissed his forehead. "I tol' him no' to go, bu' he wouldn' listen." 

"Go where?" Ianto asked as he guided the Audi onto the motorway.

"Funeral. Ol' flame. Nice... nice ... girl. Not his type." 

More fallout from 1941. Ianto wondered if they'd ever get past the dance at the Ritz. "So why'd he go?" 

"Dunno. Had to see what coulda been," Jack slurred. " 'suppose. They all wonder. Should... should be okay when he sobers up." He slumped against the window, tumbled abruptly into sleep, and began to snore softly. 

Ianto called the Hub and booked off for the rest of the shift. He was going to have his hands full until the pair in the back seat dried out.

***

"Ianto!" Jack's strangled moan echoed through the flat. "Where's my gun?"

With a sigh, Ianto set down his coffee, shut off the news broadcast he'd been watching with only partial interest, and climbed to his feet as Jack wailed again. "Ianto!" 

He trotted down the hallway. There were bins on both sides of the fold-out bed where he'd deposited his inebriated house guests, but Jack sounded too distraught to notice, and Ianto had no desire to clean up sick if he could avoid it. "Hang on. I'm almost there." 

"Make it stop!" Jack clutched a pillow against his face. From where Ianto stood in the doorway, it looked as if he were attempting to smother himself. 

The other Jack was still passed out cold. He'd been mightily sick almost as soon as they'd stepped foot in the flat, and now other than the occasional twitch, he barely moved.

Ianto dropped lightly to Jack's side and prised the pillow from his fingers. "I'm here."

"Gun!" Jack's face was pasty and damp. He looked like he was in utter hell. 

"Locked up. You can't shoot yourself here. It's messy, and it will upset the neighbours. Not to mention Captain Harkness."

Jack looked at Ianto beseechingly. "Poison then. Ianto, please!" 

There was a Torchwood-issued cyanide capsule in the first aid kit. Jack knew it was there because he’d put it in the kit himself. It was meant only for the most dire of emergencies.

"All right. But not here." He put out his arms and helped Jack to his feet, into the bathroom, and out of the rest of his clothes. "In you go." Ianto settled Jack on the floor of the shower. "Ready?" 

Jack nodded weakly, opened his mouth, and closed his eyes.

Ianto dropped two aspirin tablets on the outstretched tongue and turned the tap on full. Jack wailed in outrage. "No. Cheap. Deaths," Ianto said in a tone that was as cold as the icy water that pummelled Jack's skin. 

"Bastard!" Jack's teeth were chattering so hard the invective was barely audible. Ianto finally took mercy on him and opened the hot water valve, bringing the temperature up to a more humane level. 

"There's coffee in the kitchen. I think you can manage your own toast." 

Ianto got Jack's dressing gown out of the wardrobe and hung it on the back of the bathroom door. He checked on the other sufferer and found him still asleep.

He queried the Hub's mainframe for a status update, found everything quiet, and went to bed.

To be concluded


	5. Chapter 5

***

"Five minutes, Captain. I don't want them to get overtired." 

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. He accepted Felicity's admonishment, but he pushed back a little, just enough to remind her who was in charge. "We seem to be having this conversation a lot lately." 

"You do realise I nearly had to readmit Captain Harkness," she replied archly. Yesterday, he'd learned just how hot Felicity's temper could run after the captain's follow up physical showed he was still suffering the after effects of their post-funeral binge. He was still smarting from the tongue lashing, and didn't need the reminder.

"One hangover is not the end of the world." Jack tried not to think about his own grovelling pleas to be put out of his misery. "He had issues to put into perspective."

Felicity regarded him sceptically. "And getting him blind drunk was the best method you could come up with?" 

"It was better than some of the alternatives." Jack was getting tired of this conversation. He'd had a variant of it with Ianto, and it had gone over about as well.

"Where is Captain Harkness now?" The question was mildly asked, but there was clear concern for her patient underlying the words. 

"He's working downstairs." Jack noticed a stack of old case files sitting on the counter. The topmost name struck a painful chord. No wonder Felicity was questioning his judgement. "Trust me, Doc, occupational therapy is the best thing for him right now. He needs to keep busy so he doesn't dwell on what he's left behind." 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Captain, but wasn't he seconds away from death by either fire or drowning?" 

Jack shrugged. There was so much she didn't understand about the psychology of the time displaced, and there were no textbooks that covered the subject to give her. "That's just a detail. There's that whole other life he thought he should have had. That's what we have to keep him from thinking about." He knew his expression was darkening. He could see the questions it was raising in Felicity's eyes and forced a mask of bland neutrality.

"You sound like this is something you have personal experience with." 

"Maybe someday I'll tell you about it. But that day isn't today." He lifted his chin to indicate the injured in the infirmary. "I think it's time I introduced myself, don't you?"

Felicity stepped aside and they entered. Both Toza pilots were sitting on one bed. Their heads were bowed as if in prayer. They were holding hands and chanting softly. 

Jack offered an apology, and then a greeting, in Galactic Standard. The pair broke off, untangled their fingers, and pressed their knuckles against their foreheads, presumably concluding whatever ritual they'd been conducting. 

The older looking of the Toza replied in English. "We would prefer this language." 

Jack nodded. "Of course. I'm Captain Jack Harkness. I'm in charge here. If there's anything I can do to make things easier for you during your stay, please inform Dr Porter, and she'll pass it along."

"I am Bel," the spokesman said. "My companion is Won. Both of the House Tolusk. May I inquire of our fellow traveller?" 

There hadn't been anything in the database about death rituals, and Jack had no personal experience with the Toza on that front. He hoped they hadn't screwed anything up with the handling of the dead crewmember. "I regret to inform you that your fellow traveller was killed. We need your instructions for the disposition of her remains." 

"Disposition?" Bel said. "I do not understand this word." 

_"Hello, minefield,"_ Jack thought to himself. He rephrased more bluntly. "What would you like us to do with her body?" 

Bel's catlike eyes widened in understanding. "Ah." He shrugged. "The traveller that was Keela was born in space, and her spirit has already returned there. However, her physical form should be reduced to dust so that it too may travel again among the stars." 

Felicity jotted on a notepad and held it in his field of vision. "Cremation?" 

Jack nodded. "We'll take care of it."

"May I also ask about _Toza Trel_?" 

_Toza Trel_ had been one of the words they'd been chanting when Jack had entered the infirmary. He still wasn't sure who that was.

"Our vessel," Won clarified. "What is its status?"

They were chanting over the well-being of their ship? Jack shrugged. If he learned something new every day, he'd never get bored. "Damaged. I've taken the liberty of initiating repairs. You're more than welcome to inspect the progress as soon as Dr Porter determines your injuries are no longer serious."

Bel and Won bowed their heads. "Thank you." 

Felicity was giving him a significant look. Jack took it that his time was up. "I'll come visit again soon. Rest easy." 

Jack watched as Felicity helped Won back into bed before he exited the infirmary. Mending the Toza was her problem. Mending their ship was his. He retreated for the maintenance bay.

***

Ianto sat at his little desk in the kitchenette and sighed. He had doggedly worked his way through the backlog of paper generated over the last few days, and now he had nothing to distract him. 

The Hub was quiet. Gwen and Andy were out in the SUV investigating a disappearance that could potentially be linked to a negative Rift spike. Felicity was in the infirmary with the Toza. She had taken Dev with her to assist.

He had sent Mark downstairs to the maintenance bay over an hour ago with sandwiches and coffee. He hadn't come back upstairs. Ianto wasn't actually put out by that, even though in Mark's absence he was chained to monitoring duty, because it meant that Jack and his guest were chaperoned.

Ianto loathed to admit it, but he was unsettled and feeling more than a little possessive. He wasn't particularly pleased with himself, but he couldn't help it. The arrival of Captain Jack Harkness had opened old wounds, and exposed insecurities Ianto thought he'd dealt with long ago. 

He and Jack were in a good place. At least he thought they were. But they hadn't been the first time Jack had encountered his predecessor. Learning how fast and hard Jack had fallen for the airman had been devastating.

Now, to see the two of them together, watching Jack smile and laugh in the other man's company, it made his stomach roil. And to find out Jack was considering asking the American to stay on as part of the team. Ianto sighed and told himself sternly to quit being silly. Jack loved him, he had no reason to feel so threatened. 

So why had he been sleeping on the lounge sofa, instead of in the guest room when Ianto had come home unexpectedly? Did Jack need to physically distance himself from temptation? 

Jack and the captain had stayed in the flat at his insistence, Ianto reminded himself. If his subconscious motivation had been to force a crisis and test Jack's fidelity, then his lover had passed, and he should feel relieved, not threatened. After all, in whose bed had Jack slept last night?

It was he that had awakened in Jack's embrace, not Captain Harkness. It was his name Jack had gritted out breathlessly as he came. _His_ name, not the captain's. 

"What if Jack was overcompensating?" a small, bitter voice suggested from the back of his brain. He had been awfully affectionate with the captain on the ride back from the pub. _In vino veritas._ Or so the saying went.

He knew he shouldn't listen to his doubts. He knew he should have more faith. His hands drifted to his keyboard and activated the internal CCTV camera feed. He wasn't spying, Ianto told himself. He was only checking on the progress of the work.

***

Gwen leaned against the wing of the Range Rover and regarded Andy thoughtfully. He had done well questioning the family members of the missing woman. Sympathetic, without being too involved.

The circumstances were sad. She'd just gone off to the shop for a pint of milk and a loaf of bread, taking the family dog with her for company, according to her husband. No one had seen her after she walked out of her garden gate. And there was no record of her on the CCTV footage on the high road. The dog had returned home alone.

They'd taken a couple of photographs for comparison, and asked for the name of the family dentist. If and when Mrs Norma Walsh returned, at least it would shorten the identification process. Until then, all they could do was wait.

"This Rift business." Andy sounded irritable. "It just snatches people away like the hand of God. And we do what exactly?" 

Gwen shrugged. She'd been angry about the unfairness of the situation once. Time and a crush of work had helped to blunt her outrage. "We help the survivors when they're returned as best we can. Like Jack is doing for Captain Harkness."

"How weird is that?" Andy tore open a bag of salt and vinegar crisps purchased whilst they were interviewing the shopkeeper. "If the boss isn't really Captain Harkness, then who is he? You're a nosy bird, Gwen. Did you ever try to find out?" 

"Andy!" Gwen protested, but not over-loudly. She'd dug for months, without success, for Jack's true identity. As far as she could determine, it was a state secret guarded at the highest levels. "Jack is Jack. And that's all we really need to know." She snatched the bag of crisps out of Andy's hand and helped herself. 

"Oi!" Andy snatched them back again and stuck the packet into his pocket. "You could have asked." 

"I could of," Gwen said reasonably, glad her diversion away from Jack's private life had worked. "But it wouldn't have been half as much fun." She got into the Range Rover. "Come on. I'll buy you a proper lunch."

***

"I've apologised for raiding your wardrobe," Jack said. "I've apologised for getting drunk. Do you want to tell me what else I'm supposed to be sorry for?"

Ianto regarded him with eyes the colour of flint and handed over another requisition form for his signature. "I don't know what you mean, _sir_."

The heavy emphasis on the word 'sir' was private code that this was not a conversation that Ianto considered appropriate for working hours, but Jack didn't care. He was tired of Ianto's moodiness. He got up and shut the office door. 

"Don't give me that. You've been trying to hide it, but you've been irritable for days. When you're not killing me with kindness, you're freezing me out. So just tell me what I've done wrong, and let me make it up to you."

Ianto looked down at the desk and sighed. "It's nothing you've done." 

"Then what is it?" Jack tried to temper his exasperation, but he knew he hadn't succeeded. Ianto looked as if the question had struck him like a slap.

"It's Captain Harkness," Ianto mumbled. 

"What about him?" Jack locked the office door and closed the blinds for good measure. Ianto watched, and then dropped his gaze back to his hands.

"Do we really need to have this conversation?"

"I think we better." 

"I know what happened in 1941," he began softly. "How infatuated you were. How infatuated you both still are. There's unfinished business between you." 

Trust Ianto to pick up on _that_. "What if there was?" Jack asked guardedly. 

"I know how powerful an aphrodisiac that can be." Ianto looked up, searching Jack's face for some sign.

Ianto was right. Maybe this wasn't a conversation they should be having during working hours, but now that they'd stuck a boot in, they might as well get it over with. "Are you saying I should sleep with him? Get it out of my system?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." Ianto sounded hopeless. "I've seen how he looks at you." 

_Finally._ Jack crossed the short distance from the door to the chair and dropped to his knees at Ianto's side. "So have I. Which is why nothing is going to happen. I won't lie to you, Ianto. I think he's hot. And if I thought it was okay with you, I might ask him to bed. Especially if you were willing to join us." He saw Ianto's expression lighten a fraction. "I'm not going to risk what we have over a 'what might have been'. You're too important to me. _We're_ too important to me." 

"He loves you." 

Jack doubted it was that simple. "He's confused. He's afraid and feeling vulnerable, and he wants someone he can lose himself in, so for a little while he doesn't have to deal with it. Back in 1941, that was me." 

"You were afraid?" Ianto seemed absolutely astonished by the notion. 

Out of his head might have been more accurate, once he got over his giddy excitement of finding himself in the dance hall, and realised exactly what he was up against.

Jack chuckled darkly at Ianto's reaction. "Don't look so amazed. I was terrified. I didn't know what I was going to do. I was already in 1941 twice, three times if you take into account the version of me in the freezer. And I had Toshiko to think about." He dropped his eyes. "Plus, I'm not immune to an ego boost, and you and I hadn't exactly been getting along after John's suicide. Jack... he really wanted me." 

Ianto's eyes turned flinty again. John was another subject they'd never really talked about. At the time, it'd been too painful, and their relationship, such as it was, had fallen into an awkward state. For every step forward, they seemed to take two or three steps back as they guardedly explored the limits of their trust. Later, after his return, they'd been determined to leave the past behind them as they started over again.

Jack searched Ianto's face, looking for signs of forgiveness. He thought he saw a slight softening in the tense set of his jaw. "Once Jack gets settled in, he'll get over me. He just needs to get his bearings." He offered Ianto a crooked smile. "I promise you, in six months we'll all laugh about this." Ianto seemed doubtful, but he didn't shy away from the fingers Jack placed against his. 

"Are you still going to offer him a place here at Torchwood?"

"Would that be all right with you?" 

Ianto considered for a moment, and then curled his hand over Jack's. "Fine." He cleared his throat. "We'd best get on with the rest of these authorisations. You're supposed to take the Toza for an inspection tour in half an hour."

***

"So those are aliens," Jack whispered quietly to Mark. At first he hadn't been sure what to make of the long-haired man who dressed more like a tramp than a scientist with several doctorates, but once he got over his first poor impression, he found the other man warm and funny. He was learning quickly that appearances meant nothing in this brave, new world he'd been dropped into. 

"Yeah. Millions of miles from home and whoosh, here they are. Pretty cool."

Jack realised he must have seemed confused. So many things had changed in the last seventy years, including the slang. Sometimes it took him a moment to catch on.

"I mean, uh, nifty," Mark amended. 

Jack smiled back at him. "It's okay. I got what you meant the first time. Although 'cool' is a lot easier to make sense of than 'sick'. How did that translate as something good?" 

Mark shrugged. "Sorry, I tend to dip in and out of popular culture, and evolution of language isn't really my thing, anyway." 

Jack and the Toza were coming their way. Jack could feel his heart rate accelerate. They didn't look so strange. From a distance, they seemed human-enough, not like the little grey men some of his fellow pilots talked of witnessing when the barracks were quiet, and they needed a distraction from their thoughts of home. 

"Bel and Won of the House Tolusk. I want you to meet two of my team. This is Jack Harkness and Mark Landers."

The Toza bowed. Feeling awkward, Jack bowed back to them. Their strange catlike eyes regarded him curiously, and he tried not to stare back. There was something arresting about the aliens' appearance. He found them both beautiful. 

Won spoke. His voice was as captivating as his appearance. "You share a name with this one. Are you of the same House?"

Jack supposed 'House' was Toza for 'Family'. "We share a distant connection," he replied. He gave his namesake a tiny shrug. It was easier than explaining.

But he was going to have to work out a name of his own, and soon. He and Jack answered in chorus when anyone called their name. And the replies of, "Sorry, I meant the captain... I mean the boss," were getting old. 

"Felicity has given them a medical okay, so Bel and Won will be supervising the last of the repairs. Jack, why don't you show them around. I need to have a word with Mark." 

He answered Jack's smile with one of his own. He felt as excited as a kid on Christmas morning as he began to explain about the damage they'd discovered, and the work they'd done to repair it.

***

"Update on your missing person case," Dev called out to Gwen as she entered the main body of the Hub.

Gwen frowned. She'd checked the overnight log before leaving for work and it had been quiet. "What's the news?" 

"Mrs Walsh came home. It turns out she was going to run away with a fella from the next street." Dev glanced at the report, scanning it for more details. "Hang on, I know this name. He worked for the butcher that supplies my parents' restaurant. Driving and the like. At least he did until they caught him sneaking chops under his coat. Gorgeous, but quick with his fists when he gets a drink in him. We’ve had him down at the nick on more than one Saturday night. Anyway, dumb cow went over the back garden wall."

"Dev!" Gwen interjected. "Have a little respect!" 

Dev liked to talk with her hands, as well as her too quick tongue, and the gesture she flashed, and then tried to conceal, suggested Gwen's admonition would have little effect.

"Well, what would you call someone who nearly traded in a steady earner for a bit of no good flash? You're always going on about your Rhys. Would you walk out on him just because some handsome bloke crooked his little finger?"

"Of course not," Gwen replied quickly. This wasn't about her, or her choices. "So what happened to Mrs Walsh?" she asked to get the conversation back on track.

Dev shrugged and blew a gum bubble. It popped softly, and she continued. "Made it all the way to Ireland before she changed her mind and decided maybe things weren't so bad at home after all. She’s been hiding out with her sister, trying to work up the bottle to come clean. The sister finally gave her the push." 

"So, just a domestic, then." Gwen was glad of that. It seemed a refreshing change of pace. She frowned. "What about the negative Rift spike?" 

Dev popped another bubble. "Mark reckons some kid out in the back end of the beyond got himself a shiny racing bike. One of those went missing on the same street at the same time." 

Better a missing bicycle then a broken family, Gwen thought. "Thanks, Dev." At least there was one case that wouldn't keep her up at nights.

***

Jack blotted the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his coveralls. He could still scarcely believe everything that had happened over the last week. He was spending his days working on a space ship, in a secret underground base, using tools and technology he hadn't even dreamed could possibly exist outside of the pulp magazines and dime novels.

He wondered if he wasn't dreaming. Maybe this was a hypoxia-induced fantasy, and he was still trapped in his Spitfire seconds away from death. 

"Hey, you all right there? I've asked you twice for that spanner." 

He blinked and was brought abruptly out of his reverie by the note of concern in Jack's voice. He smiled guiltily at the other man and handed over the tool. "Sorry. I was just thinking. I'm going to miss all this when it's time to move on." 

Jack torqued something he called a spatial compensator into position under the steering console. "Move on? You going some place I don't know about?" 

He shrugged. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but every day he stayed made the idea of leaving more difficult. "Not yet."

Jack set the spanner down and hooked one arm around his knees as he leaned against the bulkhead. "That's good. Because I've got a proposition for you." 

"Yeah?" He gave the other man a sidelong glance and saw blue eyes dancing with anticipation.

"Work for me. I need good men. I pay well. It's never boring. Well, hardly ever," he amended. "Think about it?"

He thought about it, for about thirty seconds. But he couldn't escape the fact that he had fallen hard for the CO of Torchwood, and although Jack seemed fond of him, there was no way that his feelings would ever be reciprocated. Even with the distraction of aliens and flying saucers, he wasn't sure how it would be possible, unless he came up with a way to calm the churning feeling he got in his gut every time he saw Jack and his lover together.

"I've been thinking," he said to change the subject, "about names. Any reason I couldn't use Jeff Harper? Jeff was my father's name and Harper seems — " He shrugged.

"Jeff Harper... Jeff Harper." A slow grin spread over Jack's face and lit his eyes. "I like it. I'll have Ianto do you up an ID packet. Bank account. The works. We'll keep the biographic details roughly the same to make it easier for you."

"Thanks." 

"My pleasure... Jeff." 

Jack was looking at him with an odd expression that wasn't easy to define. It began to turn into one of those moments where he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss the other man breathless. Self-consciously, Jack, or Jeff as he supposed he should start thinking of himself, wiped the sweat from his palms and got to his feet. "You seem to have things covered here. I guess I better see if the other boys need a hand with the coupling interfaces."

"Yeah. Okay." Jack picked up the spanner he'd laid down on the deck at his side and clambered to his feet. "We'll talk more later."

***

Mark hooked up the last of the leads to the computer interface in the command console and powered up his laptop. Jack had promised there'd be days like this when he'd made his job offer, but Mark hadn't believed him. Not really. Sure there would be chances for pure research, that was all he and Toshiko had ever talked about. But hands in the guts of the future kind of stuff? That had never come up. He was nearly giddy as he pressed buttons and the two systems began to sync up. 

"Right." He adjusted a third unit's display to a slightly better angle, and sat back in the co-pilot's chair. "Now we wait. Test commencing at Oh Nine Thirty."

Behind him he could sense his audience stirring. Won and Bel were holding hands and chanting. Mark thought that it was pretty awesome there were races that took the view even machines were worth praying over. And not just because the boss would sack you if your engine didn't turn over and you were late for the third time. 

The pair of Jacks were there too. Excitement was practically radiating from them both. Mark wondered if he'd been dumped seventy years into the future if he'd react half as well as Captain Harkness. Of course, if they still hadn't got around to developing personal jet packs, his disappointment might sour the entire experience. 

On the screen, the simulator initiated the start up sequence. Green check boxes began to fill the screen. Pre-fuel. Engine Start. Warm Up. 

Mark felt his stomach clench. The next couple were critical. Acceleration. Lift off! 

Captain Harkness whooped with joy. Jack squeezed Mark's shoulder and whistled. The Toza continued to chant. Mark remembered to breathe and filled his lungs. He typed a new sequence into the computer and watched the screens in front of him change as the flight simulator initiated.

He put the ship through the basic sequence, testing its ability to accelerate and brake, to initiate hyperspace drive and drop back out again. He felt sweat accumulate under his arms and soak his shirt as each test marker turned green. 

Un- fucking- believable. They'd done it. They'd turned a derelict hulk into a functioning spacecraft. With shaking fingers, Mark typed in the final test and tried to remember to keep breathing as the simulator initiated a landing. 

"Gentlemen," he said quietly. "I believe our work is done."

***

It was after midnight. A necessity, given the undertaking, but Jack wasn't tired. He got out of the Range Rover and found a vantage point where he could watch out of the way as Ianto and Andy unhooked the mooring lines that held the _Toza Trel_ securely in place. 

"This isn't going to leave marks, is it?" Rhys, Gwen's husband, asked suspiciously. 

The current Captain Jack Harkness smiled and slapped Rhys on the back. He was wearing his RAF greatcoat, and Jack thought he looked every inch the dashing hero of the recruiting posters. "Will you relax? They've got antigravity boosters. They'll be well away from the lorry before they blast off."

Rhys didn't look convinced. He was muttering at his wife as he handed her a torch. 

Bel and Won were standing a little apart, watching the others and waiting for the okay to board and begin their final departure preparations. They had reverted to their own language and were conversing quietly.

Jack didn't want to interrupt, but there was something he wanted to get off his chest without an audience. He crossed to stand in front of them and bowed his head, as they might under similar circumstances. "I just wanted to say, thank you." 

Bel looked at him with non-comprehension. "It is we who are in your debt. You worked most diligently to heal _Toza Trel_."   
He couldn't begin to explain how working on the spaceship had given him an anchor, a problem to solve when he could scarcely think about all the difficulties confronting him. "That was my honour and my privilege. _Toza Trel_ is a fine ship. I'm very glad she's well again." He contemplated the spacecraft and the dark velvet sky in which she would travel. "Will you have a long journey?"

Won nodded. "The conduit carried us far from our home. We will have to," he paused, searching for the right words, "hitch a lift from a long range vessel on the edge of the system."

Jack looked up again into the sky. It all seemed so amazing. Everything Isaac Asimov and Frederick Pohl and the rest wrote about wasn't only real, it was right there, just out of his reach. "I wish I could go with you," he whispered softly. And then, "I'm sorry," as soon as he'd realised he'd spoken out loud. "I spoke out of turn." 

The Toza exchanged a series of breathy phrases using their native tongue. They blinked slowly at one another as if in agreement, and then returned their attention to him. 

"You were also brought here by the Great Conduit, were you not?" Won asked. "Displaced not in place, but in time." 

Sharing stories had been one way to pass the hours as they worked to rebuild the _Toza Trel_ , Jack hadn't said he couldn't talk about what had happened, in fact, he'd encouraged it. "I was." 

Bel held out his hand. "Then you are no more of this place than are we. Join us on our journey." 

"I couldn't." The words were automatic. The notion too incredible to consider seriously. And then he said, "Could I?" 

He'd been offered a job. Eventually, he would rebuild a life. But he had the feeling a completely clean break, away all the reminders of his past, would make starting over easier. 

Jack approached. Ianto Jones walked one pace behind, guarding his back. He made up his mind.

"You're sure about this?" his namesake asked softly after he had said his piece. 

He looked across the beach at the people who had helped him heal and find his feet again. Now it was time for him to stand on his own. "I'm sure." He put his hand on the other man's shoulder and met his eyes, willing him to understand. 

Jack returned the gesture, clasping his shoulder and holding his gaze. They stood that way for a long moment before stepping apart. As if their motions were choreographed, they raised their hands to their brows and snapped sharp salutes. "Safe travels, Captain Harper," Jack said.

"Thank you, Captain Harkness. Mr Jones?"

"Captain?" Ianto stepped forward. 

Jack held out his hand. "Thank you. For your hospitality. And your understanding." 

For the first time, there was something other than wariness in the other man's eyes. They clasped hands briefly and then Ianto Jones stepped back to stand at his lover's side. Their shoulders brushed ever so slightly, and he knew he'd made the right choice. "Well, I suppose we shouldn't delay these gentlemen any longer. There's a long trip ahead." 

Through the viewscreen, Captain Jeff Harper watched as the people of Torchwood raised their hands in farewell. It felt as if he'd come full circle as the engines powered up and the ship began to vibrate. He relaxed against the padding of his chair and closed his eyes. Whatever was about to happen, he was ready.

End


End file.
